


Scared of It All Sometimes

by romanticalgirl



Series: I Must Be Lonely [3]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:27:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mickey and Ian aren't good at the whole 'what's next?' thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scared of It All Sometimes

“Mickey! Answer your fucking door, you stupid asshole. I _know_ you’re in there! Don’t make me go bother all your neighbors and tell them you’re...” The yelling stops mid-sentence when Ian swings the door open. It’s easy to see that, whoever it is, is related to Mickey, and not just because of the language. Her eyes sweep down Ian’s body and then back up. “Holy fuck.”

“Hi. Mickey’s not here right now.”

“Who needs Mickey when you’re here? Fuck him.”

“Well...um, yes. I do.” Ian’s eyebrows raise and Mandy chokes on a laugh. 

“Cute and funny. Shit, how does my dumb-ass brother get all the luck?” She looks him up and down again. “I’m Mandy. And you must be Mickey’s hot-neighbor-great-sex meltdown.”

“I...what?”

“He called me having a meltdown because he had great sex with his hot neighbor and wanted to know what to do. I told him to go back upstairs and fuck you senseless. I don’t suppose he did, huh?”

“Well...”

“but you’re in his place, so that must mean something. I know he doesn’t have shit to steal. Can I come in?”

“I...um. Sure.” Ian steps back and lets her in. She walks like she owns the place. Hell, she walks like she owns the world. “I’m Ian.”

“You say that like it’s a question.” She turns and sits on the couch and pulls out a cigarette and stops dead, her lips parted, the cigarette in mid-air. She looks at Ian with an unreadable expression and then stands up, looking at the couch. “Holy fuck.”

“What?”

“You...I cannot believe you managed it. I mean, I’ve been busting his ass to get rid of that fucking piece of shit since the day he decided to bring it from home. It’s a fucked up couch with worse memories and it’s _gone_.”

“Well...”

“You’re, like, the miracle worker. I’m going to give you my first born child.”

“Please don’t.” Mandy laughs and sinks back onto the couch, stretching out on her back. “Oh my god, this is like sex.”

“You’ve been having sex wrong.” 

Mandy cuts a glance to him and she’s smiling. Ian likes it. Mickey’s going to hate it. “I haven’t been having sex in ages because men are pigs. Fucked-up ignorant pigs who wallow in their own filth.”

“Wow. You and your brother are like if romance and love had twin babies.”

Mandy snorts. “Where is the fuckhead, anyway?”

“He went to get dinner.”

Mandy looks at Ian like he’s grown another head. She sits up slowly and sets her cigarette down completely. “He’s not working?”

“No.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“No?” Ian shifts from one foot to the other and frowns. “Why?”

“Mickey hasn’t taken a day off in forever.”

“He was sick not that long ago.”

“No. You don’t understand. Mickey does _not_ take days off. He works two jobs regularly and then a third on a swing when the club’s closed on Sunday and Monday night. Mickey does not have nights off.” She stares at him and Ian rubs the back of his neck nervously, feeling heat stain his skin. “You really are a miracle worker. Can I worship at your feet?”

“That’d be awkward since I’m...um...with your brother.”

“Right. Both of us on our knees would be weird.” Mandy finally grabs her cigarette and lights it. “So you guys are dating?”

“We’re...having sex?” Ian sighs. “You want something to drink?”

“Beer. Bring the six pack. You and I have to get acquainted.”

Ian goes into the kitchen, and it’s a relief to have a moment to himself. Mandy’s...intense. Like Mickey but completely different. Mandy also knows more about Mickey than anyone else Ian knows – which isn’t saying much – and she seems much more likely to talk than Mickey is. He comes back out with the six pack and sits on the couch next to Mandy. She hands him her cigarette and he takes a hit, smiling when she laughs. “What?”

“You’ve got my lipstick on you now. It’s a great color on you.” She reaches out and rubs his bottom lip with her thumb. “Purple Passion.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, yeah. Not the most fun way to have you end up wearing it, but a girl can’t have everything.” She grabs two beers and opens them both, handing one to Ian. “So, you and Mickey.”

“There really isn’t a...we...” Ian sighs. “Your brother is not easy.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

Ian laughs, nearly choking on his swallow of beer. “That’s not what I mean. I mean, he’s hard to read. I have a feeling I could have a fucking instruction guide and I still wouldn’t know what’s going on.”

“Ah.” Mandy nods and bites her lower lip. Ian smiles when he sees it. Apparently it’s a family trait. “Our dad was a dick. Like major bigoted, homophobic psycho. Brothers weren’t _as_ bad, but that’s not saying much. Mickey was pretty deep in the closet for a long time. He got caught with this guy. He was in juvie, you know, and things got out of hand. One of the guards had been in lock up and known my dad. He managed to get the news back to him that Mickey was into guys.”

“I’m sure that’s how they put it too.”

Mandy laughs, but it’s not a humorous one. “Dad pretty much tried to kill Mickey. Left him bloody and bruised and broken. Then he hired a woman to fuck him. Marry him. Dad would watch every night to make sure they did the deed.”

“That’s...”

“Mickey probably would have rather he’d died, but she barely spoke English, so she didn’t know what the fuck was going on. Probably thought we were just some fucked up family. Which means she was right. She took off one night with a bag full of dad’s guns and the take from a job he’d pulled. Dad got Mickey for that too.”

“Shit.”

“The night dad got killed, Mickey took me out to the most flamboyant gay bar you could imagine. Like, guys dancing on tables, boas, tutus, twinkling lights, guys grinding on the dance floor. He proceeded to get completely and utterly wasted and ended up under a table making out with some guy.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah, well. He got a little stupider after that and caught something. A round or two of antibiotics later, and he was suddenly a hermit. Or, well, a monk I guess.” She takes a long drink of her beer. “And if you tell him you know any of this stuff, I will rip your dick off with my fingernails and feed it to the pigeons. Deal?”

“Um. Yeah. Deal.” Ian takes a drink and smiles at her. 

“What are you grinning at?”

“I think you and I are going to be friends.”

“Well, no duh, douchebag. I’m awesome.”

**

Mickey opens the door to the apartment and stops. “Holy shit.” 

Ian and Mandy. Mandy and Ian. Laughing. _Dancing_. Ian’s fucking iPod is on Mickey’s bookshelf and they’re dancing to fucking _ABBA_ of all things. Mandy sees Mickey and shrieks, hurrying over to him and grabbing at him. He swats her away and beats a hasty exit to the kitchen to put the food down. 

“Hey, Mick.” Ian comes in after him, draping one arm around Mickey’s shoulders. He’s slightly sweaty and definitely warm. “Your sister stopped by.”

“Yeah, I can see that. I’m not fucking blind.”

“I like her. She’s fun.”

“Yeah, well. You guys go have fun in your own fucking apartment.” Mickey pushes the bag of food toward him. “Take this. I’m not hungry.”

Ian steps back at the sharpness of Mickey’s tone. He looks confused and Mickey feels a twinge of guilt, but it doesn’t change the fact that suddenly whatever this is with Ian is now...something else because someone knows. Even if it’s Mandy. 

“Mickey?”

“Look, just go, okay? I’m beat. You guys are having fun, and I’d just drag you down. Mandy’s the fun one. You guys have a blast.” He goes to grab a beer out of the refrigerator and sighs when he sees they’re all gone. “I’m going to bed.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, Ian. I’m tired.”

“You weren’t tired when you went to get dinner.” Ian walks up to him again and presses his face against Mickey’s neck, breathing slow, measured, hot breaths against his skin. “You were ready for round three.”

“Well, it was a long walk and a long wait. Just go, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” Ian pulls back and Mickey tries hard not follow, not to feel guilty at the wounded look on Ian’s face. “We’ll be next door if you change your mind.”

Mickey nods and waits in the kitchen while Ian takes the food out and gathers Mandy and the music. He hears them go inside Ian’s apartment, and Mickey presses his head into his hands. He hears the music come back on and leaves the kitchen, kicking the new couch on his way into his bedroom.

Someone knowing makes too much of this real, and Mickey’s not good with real. Not when it comes to himself, to guys. Mandy meeting Ian means that Ian’s in his life. He’s going to require a label to explain him. When it’s just the two of them, he doesn’t have to explain to anyone what it is between them – that it’s fucking and more than that. Not something that needs defined, because it’s just them.

Fuck.

He undresses down to his boxers and climbs in bed, punching his pillow hard. Even worse was that Mandy and Ian seemed to be getting along, which means they’d end up friends, and then Mickey would be...someone Ian fucks. Which is fine. That’s all any of this was supposed to be. 

Except Ian made him go buy a new couch because if Ian was going to be there while he was studying, then Mickey had to do something. So Mickey bought a new couch. Ian had taken great pleasure in getting the other one into the dumpster. It’s also possible he saw Ian throw a lit match in after it, probably afraid Mickey would change his mind.

And he stopped taking the under the table jobs at various seedy places around town on Sunday and Monday and ended up spending those nights with Ian. Watching movies on Ian’s laptop or reading while Ian studied. Having sex for hours on Saturday night after they both got off work because they knew they didn’t have to get up at any special time the next morning. Mickey ending up with fucking glitter on his sheets because neither of them could actually wait until Ian showered.

The fact that, even though Ian’s apartment was a hell of a lot more homey, he would come to Mickey’s place, as if he knew that Mickey wouldn’t be as comfortable in Ian’s with all the stuff. All the memories. Reminders. 

“Fuck.” Mickey throws the covers off and doesn’t even bother grabbing his shirt. He storms out of his door and pounds on Ian’s before throwing the door open. Ian and Mandy are both standing there, eyes wide with surprise. Mickey points at Ian. “You tricked me.”

“I what?”

Mandy turns off the music and moves out of Mickey’s line of sight, which is probably the best thing. “You tricked me. We were supposed to be having sex.”

“I’m absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure we’ve been having sex. A lot of it. I have marks I can show you if you don’t believe me.”

Mandy snorts and Mickey flips her off without looking at her. “You made me buy a couch.”

“I suggested...”

“You stay at my place.”

“It’s easier to have sex if we’re both in the same bed.”

“You...” Mickey growls and grabs Ian by the t-shirt, pulling him down to look at him eye to eye. “You suck.”

“If you ask nicely.” Ian smiles and Mickey really, really wants to punch him in the face. 

He kisses him instead.

**

Ian is inordinately proud of himself. Mandy slips out of the apartment when Mickey kisses him, waving her fingers in a goodbye. Ian closes his eyes and concentrates on kissing Mickey back. Tongue against tongue, tasting the sensitive skin at the roof of Mickey’s mouth, running his tongue over the sharp edge of Mickey’s teeth. Mickey is hot and aggressive, pushing Ian back until he falls onto one of the chairs, splayed out. Mickey growls again, and Ian’s pretty sure it’s the hottest fucking thing he’s ever heard. It’s deep and vicious and _possessive_.

Mickey braces himself on the chair and settles on Ian’s lap, catching Ian’s face between both of his hands and tilting his head, angling the kiss so he can take over Ian’s mouth. It’s hungry and aggressive, Mickey’s tongue fucking between Ian’s lips, tangling with Ian’s. He sucks on Ian’s tongue and bottom lip, bites and nibbles and it’s overwhelming and perfect. Ian sets his hands on Mickey’s hips and tugs him closer. Mickey’s boxers are tented with his erection, and Ian wants to feel it, even though layers of cotton and denim.

“Want you to ride me.”

Mickey groans and kisses Ian again, biting hard at his lower lip. Ian makes a low noise of his own and licks in the wake of Mickey’s teeth. “Yeah. Now.”

“Bedroom. Stuff’s in there.” Ian eases Mickey off his lap and heads into the bedroom. Mickey follows, tugging Ian’s shirt out of his jeans, pressing close so his ass is against Ian’s, his hands around Ian’s waist, warm against his stomach. “Fuck, Mick.”

Mickey shoves Ian onto the bed and looks down at him as Ian turns over. “Strip.” 

Ian makes short work of getting out of his clothes, kicking his jeans off onto the floor and tossing his shirt away as soon as it’s off. “Come on.”

“Get the stuff.”

Ian turns enough that he can grab the lube and condoms off the night stand. When he turns back, Mickey’s naked in front of him. His dick is hard and curved, a trail of pre-come stretched from the tip to Mickey’s stomach where the head brushes against him as he moves. “Shit.”

Mickey kneels between Ian’s legs and pushes them apart. He kisses the inside of Ian’s thighs, biting on them and then rubbing his face on them. He knows when Ian feels the stubble against his skin from his gasp. Ian’s hands fist in Mickey’s hair and he tugs, but Mickey ignores him, licking his other thigh.

“Mickey.”

Mickey ignores him even more, licking and sucking higher up Ian’s thighs. His nose brushes Ian’s sac and Ian arches, heels digging into the bed. Mickey makes it worse and better by sucking Ian’s balls into his mouth, rolling both of them against his tongue before letting them go and flicking the tip of his tongue over Ian’s hole. 

“Holy Christ.” Ian’s body jerks and even though he’s certain the majority of his blood is pounding through his dick, he gets impossibly harder. Mickey licks again and Ian whimpers, his legs twitching in uncertainty. His wants more, but he feels open and exposed, raw when Mickey’s tongue slips over his skin, dipping and rubbing against the tight muscle. “Mickey.”

Mickey laughs against Ian’s skin, pressing his hot mouth against Ian’s hip in a wet kiss. He looks up at Ian through his bangs and smiles, wicked and hot and Ian’s suddenly fucking starved for him. He grabs the lube and hands it to Mickey. Mickey bites Ian’s hip. “Now, huh?”

“Yes. Now.” 

Mickey moves over Ian and rolls the condom on him, slow and deliberate. Ian’s eyes roll back at the touch of Mickey’s hand and then – oh fuck – his mouth. The heat surrounds him, trapped beneath the condom, suctioning tight around him as Mickey sucks him hard. Ian’s dick aches with the need to be inside Mickey. When Mickey finally pulls off after what feels like an hour of being on the edge of a mind-blowing orgasm, there’s a wet sound and Ian’s dick is free, slapping Mickey against the face when he lets it go. Mickey raises an eyebrow and Ian laughs softly. 

“Shit. Sorry.

“Gonna be sorry.” Mickey pours lube into his hand and strokes it up and down Ian’s dick, sliding the shaft between his fingers, against his palm. Ian wants to come just from his touch, from the pressure, but he doesn’t want it to stop. 

“Please.”

“Hold your fucking horses.”

“I’m _trying_ to get you to ride me. I’m the fucking horse. You need a goddamned saddle?” Mickey laughs and walks on his knees so he’s positioned over Ian’s dick. Ian grabs Mickey’s hips, but then Mickey pulls away. “What the fuck?”

**

“God, shut up.” Mickey stands up and turns around, facing Ian’s feet. He kneels again and presses Ian’s dick against his ass, rubbing the tip against him. This is going to ache and burn and wreck him, but he wants it. He holds Ian’s dick still and slowly lets his weight drag him down, hissing sharply as Ian breaches him. “Oh sh-shit.”

“You...you okay?” Ian’s got hold of Mickey’s hips, but he’s not doing anything other than offering support to steady him. Mickey nods and keeps sinking down until he’s fully seated, Ian buried inside him. “Oh Christ, Mick.”

Mickey closes his eyes and takes several deep breaths. He grabs the lube and slicks up his fingers, reaching down to rub Ian’s hole. Ian’s body jerks and he thrusts up into Mickey and like that they’re moving.

Ian’s hands slide from Mickey’s hips to his ass, squeezing and pinching and marking it. Mickey grinds down on Ian, one of his hands braced on Ian’s thigh for leverage and the other working two fingers inside him. Ian’s not saying anything, can’t if his breathing’s any indication. Bent forward at this angle, Mickey can see Ian’s cock disappearing inside him, his own fingers disappearing inside Ian. 

Ian’s gasping and panting and dragging Mickey’s body down against him, thrusting up inside him. Mickey works a third finger inside him and Ian’s whole body seems to constrict. Mickey’s voice is gruff, more of a whisper than anything else. “Don’t you dare fucking come yet. I’m not through with you.”

Ian moves his hands back to Mickey’s hips, holding him down as he fucks up into him. Mickey _loves_ Ian’s cock. Love how deep he gets, loves how hard he fucks. Mickey’s rocking back onto his dick, the curve of it hitting differently, feeling differently. He’s fucking Ian’s ass hard and fast now, nearly the same rhythm that Ian’s fucking him. Sweat drips into his eyes and he blinks it away.

“Fuck, Mickey. Gotta. I can’t...” 

Ian thrusts up hard, pulling down on Mickey’s thighs to keep him from moving away. Mickey keeps fucking Ian with his fingers until Ian’s body starts jerking with too much stimulation. Mickey stops moving, his fingers still buried inside Ian, but his whole body still except for the harsh breaths he’s busy sucking in.

“You know I’m kind of gay, right?” Ian gasps as Mickey eases off of him. “So, like, nothing’s going to happen between me and your sister.”

Mickey works the condom off Ian and ties it off, tossing it aside. He grabs another one and slides it on his own dick. It’s hard and an angry reddish-purple. Mickey’s stomach is a mess of pre-come. He rubs his hand over his dick and slicks up the condom a little before he presses it against Ian’s asshole. He holds himself there, watching Ian. 

Ian’s eyes are black with the barest ring of green around the pupil. Mickey smiles slowly and pushes in, Ian’s tight ass surrounding him, holding him like a fist. Mickey braces himself over Ian, the muscles of his arms pulled taut. He stares down at him for a long moment and then starts moving, rocking his hips back before pushing inside. 

Ian groans and arches off the bed. Like this, they’re the same height, and Mickey stares down into Ian’s face as he snaps his hips forward. He’s not going to last long. Even if he hadn’t been holding himself in check this long, the feel of Ian surrounding him is too much. Ian stares up at Mickey with wide eyes and Mickey’s throat closes up with something like emotion. “Nothing’s going to happen between you and anybody else.”

Ian clenches around him and Mickey comes, unable to hold it back any longer. Ian grabs Mickey’s hair and jerks him down for a kiss, devouring Mickey’s mouth like he’s starving for it. Mickey can’t hear, can’t breathe, can’t think.

But he’s pretty sure all of this is Mandy’s fault.

**

Ian wakes up with Mickey’s back pressed against his chest. His dick is resting in the cleft of Mickey’s ass, and it is the best way Ian can think of to start a Monday morning. Except, of course, that he needs to get up and go meet Lip for breakfast and then go to school. He closes his eyes and breathes Mickey in. He smells like sweat and sex and a little bit like the Chinese food they’d eaten in complete and utter silence after they’d both recovered enough from the sex to walk. 

He presses a kiss to the side of Mickey’s neck. “Moo goo gai pan.”

“Fuck off.” Mickey murmurs, grabbing Ian’s arm and pulling it tighter around him like it’s a blanket. 

“Can’t really fuck off when you’re holding one of my limbs hostage.” He kisses Mickey’s shoulder. “I’m kind of fond of it, so I’m not leaving it here.”

Mickey holds it tighter, pressing it to his chest. “’s mine.”

“You’ve got two of your own. Don’t be greedy.” This time Ian bites his shoulder. “I have to go. I’m supposed to meet my brother, then I have class. Don’t work tonight though, so I’ll be back around four.”

Mickey murmurs, but doesn’t actually say anything. Ian’s not sure exactly what they’re supposed to say. The last time he’d actually had someone he was with act like he mattered was too long ago. Too many mistakes ago. 

“If you don’t let go, we’re going to talk about our feelings.” Mickey squeezes Ian’s wrist, but lets him go. It’s a middle ground that Ian can live with. “You want me to bring dinner home with me?”

“Maybe I’ve got plans for tonight.”

Ian sits up and looks back at Mickey over his shoulder, eyebrow arched. “Do you?”

“Yeah. I’m cooking dinner.”

“Do you own pans?”

“No. But you have pans.”

“I’m assuming you’re cooking dinner for me, because otherwise I’m not letting you use my pans.”

“You’ll let me into your pans. You like me in your pans.” 

Ian laughs and leans down. He intends to kiss Mickey’s forehead, but Mickey looks at him and wraps a hand around the back of Ian’s neck, tugging him into a real kiss. “I’ll bring home dessert.”

“I had kind of planned on being dessert.”

“Pretty sure I can manage two desserts.” Ian takes Mickey’s hand and slides it down to his dick. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re never getting out of the bed if you keep that up.” Mickey squeezes lightly. “You can bail on your brother, can’t you?”

Ian groans as Mickey squeezes and rubs, stroking his palm along Ian’s cock. “I c-can’t. I’ve blown him...” He chokes a laugh as Mickey’s eyebrows lift. “Blown him _off_ twice now.”

“To blow me?”

Ian grabs Mickey’s hand and pins it to the bed, moving over him. “Yeah. To blow you. And fuck you. And shove your knees up to your shoulders and pound your tight ass until you begged me to let you come.”

“I don’t beg.” 

Ian bites Mickey’s lip. “You keep telling yourself that.” He eases off of Mickey and stands up. Before he has a chance to head to the bathroom, Mickey gives him a solid smack across the ass. “Oh, now you’re just asking for it.”

Mickey rolls onto his back and puts his hands behind his head, stretched out and gloriously naked. “Nah. Asking’s too much like begging. Go on and get out of my face.”

Lip’s waiting at the diner by the time Ian makes it there. He’s less than a half hour late, so he considers himself on time. Mickey’d fallen back asleep, so Ian didn’t get sidetracked – again – except how he spent a few minutes just looking at Mickey sprawled on the bed before he forced himself to get his ass in gear.

Ian slides into the booth opposite Lip and signals for a coffee. Lip gives him the once over and sighs. “You’re late.”

“Not by my standards.”

“You don’t have standards.” Lip takes a sip of his coffee and smiles. Ian flips him off and leans back against the seat. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, dear.” Ian smiles at the waitress when she brings his coffee and takes a sip, sighing blissfully. “How’s life in the rat race?”

“You know. Maze here. Pellet there.” Lip keeps looking at Ian, eyes assessing. “How’s school?”

“Good. I mean, except the fact that most of what I have to do is math. At least it’s not trig, right? No vectors or quadratic equations or anything.”

“Quadratic equations are algebra.”

Ian blinks at Lip. “Really? That’s what you’re giving me?”

Lip laughs and drinks some coffee. “And how is shaking your money maker?”

“Profitable.” Ian grabs a sugar packet and shakes it, then pours some into his hand, licking his finger and dipping it into the pile of sugar and sucking it off. “Just ask.”

“Ask what?”

“I don’t know. Whatever it is that’s on your mind. You’re giving me that look.”

“What look?”

“Don’t be an ass. The one that says that you’re worried about me and probably disappointed in me and I’ve managed to fuck something up again.”

“I don’t look at you like that.”

“Yeah. You kind of do.” Ian shrugs. “I mean, you’re usually right, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Lip glances up as the waitress brings over two plates. “I ordered your usual.”

Ian smiles at the waitress as she sets his plate down in front of him. He’s not particularly hungry anymore, because he can see Lip thinking. “Just say it.”

“You look happy.”

That’s not what Ian expected to hear. “What?”

“You look happy. I’m trying to think of the last time you were happy. I’m having a hard time coming up with it.”

“I’m usually happy.”

“No, you’re not. You’re not unhappy, but you’re not happy. And right now you are. Which means you’re probably getting laid. Which means you didn’t listen to me and you’re still having sex with your neighbor and eventually it’s going to blow up in your face and I’m going to have to help you move. Again.”

“Fuck you.” Ian snaps a fry in half, vaguely wishing he was snapping off Lip’s head. “First of all for assuming that I need to get laid to be happy. Second of all for assuming that it’s going to fall apart. And third of all, fuck you.”

“You tend to base your happiness around guys, Ian.”

“Well, we can’t all run through partners like water.” He shoves his plate away, suddenly not hungry. “He’s nice. He likes me. So what if it’s not fucking destiny or something. I’m allowed to have a good time. I’m allowed to actually enjoy my life.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t, Ian. I’m just worried you’re making choices for the wrong reasons.”

“And what are those, Lip? What are the wrong reasons? Because someone who is hot and funny and smart likes me? Because I don’t deserve that kind of thing? Because I’m a crazy fuck-up, right?”

“No.” Lip’s voice is firm. “Because you’re lonely. Because you love being in love. Because you miss home.”

“I don’t miss you.”

Lip smiles. “You do too.”

“I do not. You snore and you always jerked off when you knew I was awake.”

“We should do a family dinner. Get the band back together.” Lip kicks Ian’s foot under the table. “You can bring your boyfriend. Put him to the Gallagher test.”

“But I _like_ him.” Ian’s voice is a little bit of a whine and he’s trying not to smile. “Why would I do that to him?”

Lip pushes Ian’s plate back in front of him. “Eat and then go to school, you degenerate. Lunch is on me.”

Ian gives in to the grin. “I wouldn’t show up if it weren’t.”

**

Mickey wakes up disoriented. Nothing in the room is familiar or right until he remembers where he fell asleep last night. Or this morning. It was a lot of sex that probably went past midnight. His ass _feels_ like it went past midnight.

He gets out of the bed and tosses the covers back over his side – the side he slept on, not his side. He doesn’t have a side – and tugs his clothes on. He’s never been alone in Ian’s apartment, and when Ian was sick, he was the biggest baby on the planet, so Mickey had to stay with him every minute he was awake or asleep except when he was working. If Mickey walked into the other room, Ian woke up and whined.

So he didn’t have the luxury of a passed out Ian to snoop around his place like Ian did his. 

No time like the present.

He goes into the bathroom and opens the medicine cabinet. One of the first things Mickey learned as a kid was medicine cabinets equal drugs, so hit it first. No muss, no fuss. There are about ten different prescription bottles and he looks them over. Ian’s on some significantly heavy shit. Mickey pulls out his phone and Googles a few of them, eyebrows lifting as he finds out what they’re for. 

“Shit.” He closes the medicine cabinet and heads into the bedroom. He’d rather deal with weird-ass porn than mental health issues. Porn he knows how to deal with. The problem with Ian is that everything is on display. Pictures of him and his coworkers in ridiculous booty shorts and, in one of them, denim overalls cut off high enough that Mickey feels a little like a peeping tom looking at them. 

He goes into the living room and hits pay dirt. A family photo album full of faded pictures. Ian as a curly redhead with a million freckles on his face. Ian and a group of other kids that have to be his family. No mom, no dad, but a family. There’s a picture of Ian in a military uniform, and Mickey traces his finger down the broad shoulders, the legs spread at parade rest. “Shit. That’s just dirty fucking pool.”

He doesn’t have family pictures and, even if anyone had thought to take them, he’d have burnt them long ago. He has a few pictures of him and Mandy on his phone, but mostly because she sent them to him and threatened to check to make sure he still had them. He’s not exactly afraid of his sister, but he’s smart enough not to deliberately piss her off.

He pulls out his phone and calls her, because he knows he needs to apologize, or at least listen to her laugh at him. She picks up on the first ring, and Mickey doesn’t even have time to say hello.

“You are so gone on that boy.”

“Fuck you, I am not.”

“You got jealous that he was hanging out with _me_ , and I know you probably haven’t noticed, but I’ve got boobs and a vagina.”

“I can honestly say that your vagina has never crossed my mind, and now that it has, I need to drill a laser into my skull to cut the thought of it out.”

“Let’s stick with the tits then. Ian is not into tits.” She sighs. “God, if he were though, I would be on him like white on rice. Shit, Mick. How the _fuck_ did you get so lucky?”

“I’m not lucky. I’m...” In over his head. That’s what he is. “He’s nice, Mands.”

“Yeah. I noticed.”

“I’m...not good enough for nice.”

Mandy’s quiet for a long time, but Mickey can hear her taking slow, measured breaths. “Mickey, have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes.”

“When it was important?”

He frowns. “Yes.”

“God, you’re such a dick.” Mandy huffs. “Well, I’m not lying to you now. You deserve nice. You deserve more than nice. You deserve a guy who likes you and makes you laugh. You deserve to not be afraid anymore. You deserve more than random hook-ups with guys you’re never going to see again because you’re afraid you’ll wake up one day and they’ll be gone.”

“Shut up.”

“I don’t think Ian’s going anywhere, Mick.”

“You’ve known him all of...what? Two hours?”

“All I had to do was see the way he looks at you.”

“You’ve been watching too many fucking Julia Roberts movies or some shit.” He flips through the photo album. “Shit he was a fucking cute kid.”

“Let me see.” Mickey snaps a photo of the picture with his phone and sends it to her. Mandy screeches like a wild animal and Mickey has to hold the phone away from his ear.

“What the fuck?”

“You guys would have the cutest babies. I mean, if you could have babies. But, again, the vagina thing.”

“Stop talking about vaginas.” He runs his hand through his hair and flips another page. “Shit, Mandy.”

“Mickey. Stop thinking. You always get in trouble when you think. Go back to your place and sit in your little monk-house and meditate or some shit. Go buy groceries. Go buy me ice cream and bring it here.”

“Buy your own fucking ice cream.” He closes the photo album and puts it back where he found it. “Sorry for freaking out at you.”

“Sorry for talking about vaginas.”

“Mandy!”

She giggles and Mickey can practically picture her. “Seriously though. Stop thinking. Just let it happen. I promise, if you didn’t deserve him, I’d tell you, because I would not let a specimen like that go to waste.”

“This familial love is really getting to me.”

“Hey, you called me.” She’s quiet for a moment, but Mickey can hear the smile in her voice. “I do love you, dickwad.”

“I love you too, skank.” He hangs up and takes a deep breath. Getting out of Ian’s place sounds like a really good idea. Getting out of the building altogether sounds even better. He heads to his apartment for a shower and change of clothes and then heads out. He’s not sure where he’s going, but he’ll figure it out on the way.

He buys a bookcase. 

He buys a bookcase and rents a car to take the bookcase home. But halfway there, he texts Ian. 

_‘hungry?’_

_‘always’_

_‘buy u dinner?’_

_‘is this a date?’_

_‘fuck you.’_

_‘i dont put out on the first date. im shy like that.’_

_‘where should I meet you?’_

_‘class is done in a half hour. Meet me at the school? By the library’_

_‘no idea where the library is but ill figure it out now pay attention 2 your class’_

He smiles as he drives the rest of the way, parking near the library. The school is fucking imposing and the library looks like something out of a horror film. He gets out of the car and sits on the hood, lighting a cigarette and taking a deep inhale.

“This is not a designated smoking area.” Ian comes up from behind him and hops up on the hood of the car as well. “Pretty sure there’s a fine for it, but I’ll take it out in trade.” He holds his hand out and Mickey slots the cigarette between his fingers.

“I’m supposed to be quitting. Have quit.” He looks around. “Shit, I feel so fucking out of place.”

Ian’s brow furrows as he frowns. “Why?”

Mickey steals the cigarette back. “Not my scene. Barely made it through high school. College seems like a bunch of smart fucks who think they’re better than me. And aren’t wrong.”

“They’re not better than you.” Ian bumps his knee against Mickey’s and leans in, dropping his voice. “And not a single one of them can take my cock like you do.”

Mickey coughs out smoke. “Jesus Christ, Ian.”

Ian laughs and rests his head on Mickey’s shoulder for a moment, there and then gone again before Mickey can really process it. “How do you feel about spaghetti?”

“That what you want to get to eat?”

“No.” Ian looks down at his hands, and Mickey can tell it’s to avoid seeing him. “Family thing. Dinner. My family...”

“Vetting your friends?”

“Something like that.” Ian sighs. “I don’t have a great track record with guys. Or most things, but especially guys. Married. Married. Um...married. Single, but refused to really admit he was gay.”

“Dude, _three_ married guys?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve already gotten a lecture.”

“No, just...why the fuck did they get married if they’re gay?”

“First one was deeply, deeply closeted. Second was...bisexual? Well, he’d probably fuck anything that moved. Third was kind of a one-night thing that ended up lasting a couple weeks.”

“Someone needs to get you a watch so you learn how to tell time.”

Ian laughs and looks at Mickey. “I don’t get you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You just take it all in stride.”

“Hey, I’ve got no right to judge choices you’ve made. I don’t know your life. You don’t know mine. If I’m going to get pissy about what you did when you were younger, then that gives you the right to do the same to me, and I’m not okay with that.” Mickey frowns. “How young were you?”

“Ah.” Ian blushes and Mickey has the overwhelming urge to kiss him. “Well. Um. Kash...that was the first guy? I was fifteen?”

“And fucking a married dude.” Mickey shakes his head. “A closeted pedophile. You know how to pick ‘em.”

“Hey, I have very discerning tastes.” Ian cracks a smile. “Now, at least.”

“Ha. You forget, I know me better than you. Your taste still sucks.” Mickey slides off the hood of the car. “Come on. I’m going to feed you before you go wiggle your ass for a bunch of creepy dudes who want to shove money in your shorts.”

“You should come to the club.”

“Why on earth would I do that?” 

Ian hops off the car and watches Mickey pull out keys to unlock it. “I didn’t know you had a car.”

“Don’t. Rented it. Bought a bookcase.”

“Another one?”

“The others are getting a little full.”

“Your definition of a little full is weird.”

Mickey slides in and waits for Ian to climb in the car and shut the door. “You cock makes me feel a little full.”

Ian laughs and leans across and kisses Mickey hard and fast. “Feed me and then we’ll fuck before I go to work.”

“How about we fuck first? I can live without food.”


End file.
